Of Soulmates
by clay12345
Summary: Ziva David has fallen for someone in America. Will it remain one-sided forever? What sort of obstacles will she face?
1. Can You Tell?

**A/N: I don't own any of this… Also, I'm not very well versed in Navy protocol, so I just made some stuff up. Just bear with me **

"Congratulations, Agent David. You are now an official officer in NCIS."

"Thank you, sir," smiled Ziva, shaking Director Vance's hand. "I appreciate it."

"Well show it by doing a good job."

"Yes, sir."

"And one thing," he called out, before Ziva could leave. "I need to explain a few things to you. You are no longer a liaison officer. You are exclusively NCIS now. And, of course, with you're history, in order to become a NCIS special agent, you will have to agree to a certain number of special conditions. One, you answer to the United States government, and only the United States Government. Two, as previously agreed, you, unlike your co-workers, are now a Navy reservist officer. We've directly translated your pervious Mossad officer rank to your new rank of Lieutenant. This means, of course, you are now subject to Military law. Three, when a case involves the Mossad, you are to take yourself off the case. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good. Welcome home, Ziva."

The lights shone brightly in her face when she stepped out of the Director's office and into the bullpen.

"And there she is," yelled Tony, a large lamp in one hand, and the other one cupped around his mouth, attempting to imitate sports announcers. "Special Agent Ziva David."

"Get that out of my eyes, DiNozzo."

"Congratulations, Ziva," called out McGee, from his desk. "So I'm assuming you passed all the tests?"

"With swimming colors," she smiled.

Tony flashed Ziva a smirk; "_Flying_ colors."

"I do not understand. Colors do not fly. Nor swim."

"Welcome to the world of idioms, Probie."

"Please do not call me that."

The two suddenly turned when a crash sounded through the bullpen. McGee was on the floor, his wheels of his chair rapidly turning. Gibbs was staring down at him.

"No video chatting with girlfriends on the job, McGee."

"Uh, I'm sorry, boss. Won't happen again," replied McGee, almost automatically as he stood up and dusted himself off.

He felt his head lurch forward as Gibbs slapped him across the back of his head.

"Don't apologize." Gibbs turned to the rest of the team. "Get your things ready; we're going to San Francisco."

"San Francisco? Why San Francisco? What's in San Francisco? Why us?"

"Too many questions, DiNozzo."

"Right."

"I'll explain on the plane. McGee, get Abby. DiNozzo, get Duckie. Ziva, everyone's bags are in the lobby. I called a cab. Bring them to the cab."

Tony turned to McGee in the elevator; "Shouldn't I be getting the bags?"

"She's stronger than you, Tony."

"No, she's not."

"Yes, she is."

"I'm stronger than you."

"I'm not Ziva, Tony."

"Gibbs! I do _not _think I can go eight hours without Caf-Pow."

"They have Caf-Pow in San Francisco, Abs."

"Gah! Fine."

Abby settled down in her seat, pouting. The group had managed (miraculously) to all be seated together. Ziva and Gibbs claimed the aisle seats, while Abby was sandwiched between them. Tony, McGee, and Duckie sat behind them. McGee sighed as Duckie began to explain some sort of myth about things that fly. Tony leaned over the seat in front of him.

"So, why _are _we going to San Francisco? Don't we have a case to work here? That dead marine isn't getting any younger."

"He is dead," said Ziva, matter-of-factly. "Of course he is not getting younger."

"We've got a dead Navy ROTC cadet in Berkely, DiNozzo."

"Isn't that civilian jurisdiction, boss?"

"Not when she's the younger sister of our marine. Sit down, DiNozzo. I want to sleep."

"Oh…" said Tony, buckling his seat belt. He made a motion to lean forward again.

"I told you to sit down, DiNozzo!"

"Ah, yes, boss."

McGee flashed Tony a toothy smile.

"Yeah, sit down, DiNozzo."

"Shut up, McGeek."

Ziva slinked down in her chair as Tony and McGee argued behind her. She most definitely did not want to hear the two agents bickering for the next eight hours… she silently considered slipping sleeping pills into their drinks. It didn't help that she was sitting beside Abby. She swallowed as she unwaveringly looked forward.

"Hey! Hello? Ziva?"

"Yes?"

She hadn't realized that Abby had been calling her.

"Gibbs just told me NCIS isn't going to pay for our hotel rooms… So there's no way we can afford to stay in our own rooms. I mean, _Gibbs_ can because he like _never _spends any money, so he's got a lot, but right. I'm talking about, you know, us." Abby had hardly taken one breath. "Anyhow, McGee and Tony will probably stay in the same room, which would be interesting, but we'll talk about that later, and so, um."

Abby had finally slowed down, biting her lip. She had no idea how to phrase the last bit of her ramble, which was really the main point of it.

"You want to know if we should share a room, yes?"

"Um yes. Right. That. Exactly."

"I would be happy to."

Ziva didn't mention that she probably could afford her own room as well. Of course, neither did she mention the strange nervousness fluttering through her chest.

Three hours into the flight, Ziva suddenly felt a weight on her shoulder; Abby's head rested on the crook of Ziva's neck, and slowly, Abby snuggled in closer. Ziva swallowed hard for the second time that flight, gripping the sides of the seats as she struggled to keep her composure.

"It is raining like rats and mice!"

"Cats and dogs, Ziva. Cats and dogs. You still have much to learn, my immigrant friend."

"Oh come on, Tony," smiled Abby. "Rats and mice. I kind of like it. It's got a ring to it. Cats and dogs are getting cliché anyway."

Ziva turned to the police officer who had picked them up; "Does it always rain like this here? California is the 'Golden State,' is it not? That would insinuate… sunlight?"

The detective laughed, "No, you're right. It's the LA folk that get scared shitless of rain. We usually get light rain up here in the north. Although, even for us, this amount of rain is a little unusual."

The car lurched forward as it climbed one of the steep road peaks. Tony leaned forward and stuck his head between the detective and Gibbs (who was riding shotgun).

"Let's see what happens if you go a little faster. Maybe we can pull an old Starsky and Hutch."

"Starsky and Hutch?" McGee stared at Tony.

The detective quickly took his eyes of the road to glance at McGee; "You've never seen it? Classic cop flick. Hilarious."

Tony finally, willingly leaned back into his seat.

"Finally!" he said. "Someone who understands _good _movies."

"Here we are," announced the detective. "The Marriott. Enjoy your stay, folks. Call me tomorrow morning, and I'll take you down to the station for briefing."

"And your name and number would be…?" Gibbs asked, slightly impatient.

"Uh, Detective Bobby Miller, sir. And this… is my number."

Detective Miller handed over a crumbled piece of paper with number scribbled across it.

"If there's anything I can help you with, just give me a call. The chief isn't too happy to see you guys, but personally, I'd be glad for some help."

"Thank you, detective."

Gibbs turned to see Tony hopelessly struggle with all the bags, who then pouted when Ziva took them from him and quickly took them into the hotel. Abby patted Tony's gut.

"There's a gym inside. Maybe you can work out!"

Abby quickly skipped away before getting caught in the throes of Tony's glare.

Ziva opened the door for Abby as the two entered the room. Ziva busied herself with the bags, well aware of the fact that Abby was staring at the one queen size bed that dominated the room. She continued to look away as she explained.

"I tried to get a room with two beds, but they did not have any left. There is a couch, though, so I can sleep there."

"No! That's okay. It's a queen size bed. We'll fit."

"Actually," Ziva said, "there was one room left with two beds. But Tony and McGee took it. Tony called me probie and then sliced me in line."

"_Cut _you."

"What?"

"He _cut _you in line." Abby laughed at Ziva's confused expression.

"Oh. Thank you. I will remember that. Cut not slice…"

Abby laughed again as she threw herself against the bed; "Don't worry about it too much. Idioms are stupid." Abby stuck out her tongue.

Ziva turned away as she searched through her bags for something more comfortable to wear. She hadn't had time to change since the morning they left D.C. That, and she didn't want to touch the bed yet… Terrorists, snipers, and trained assassins she could deal with, but _this _for some reason proved to be difficult. Ziva grumbled to herself as she pulled out a T-shirt and sweats.

Abby couldn't help but stare at the suddenly 'scantily-clad' Ziva. She felt her throat go immediately dry as she stared at the other woman's backside. By the time Ziva slipped into her change of clothes, Abby was looking into the TV, watching some ridiculous commercial for cereal. She coughed, attempting to get the dryness out of her throat.

"Is there something wrong, Abby?"

"Um, no. Nothing wrong here. Nope. Nuh-uh."

"Okay."

Abby found herself staring at Ziva again… the navy blue NCIS t-shirt clung to her torso well… not to mention that the grey sweats were hanging from hips rather nicely as well. Abby swallowed as she felt her throat go even drier.

"I hope you do not mind," Ziva said. "I am a little bit of a night-sparrow."

Abby couldn't help but giggle; "It's night-owl, Ziva."

"What?" Ziva couldn't stop the expression of incredulousness spread across her face. "But owls are awake in the night anyway! It is redundant!" Ziva leaned back into the bed, slightly annoyed. "I do not like these American idioms."

"Don't worry," Abby said.

She put her head down on Ziva's shoulder again.

"And also," she continued, "I'm a bit of an insomniac myself… Wait, no! This'll be fun! It'll be like a slumber party!"

"A slumber party? What is a slumber party?"

"What? You don't know what a slumber party is?"

"We never did such things in my family."

"It's like… a super-long play-date! Like, one that lasts all night long!"

"A date?" muttered Ziva, to herself.

"Ziva?" Abby said, after a silence.

"Yes?"

"If you can't get to sleep, do you wanna go get something to eat or something? I mean, we've been in that stupid plane for eight hours, and I'm feeling kind of Caf-Pow deprived…"

"No, it is okay," laughed Ziva. "I have never had Caf-Pow before. Maybe I will have some."

"Oh my god. You have _got _to try some. It's like… a to-do list for life. C'mon."

The two quickly left the room, well, that is, after Ziva laced up her work boots. The girls heard a crash as they passed one of the rooms… and then Tony's voice.

"No! Probie! Look what you did! That's God's way of telling you we should watch my movie, and not your nerdy documentary, got it?"

They laughed.

"They will probably be fighting throughout this whole trip, no?"

"Yes, yes they will…"

"So, Ziva. McGee tells me you're an official NCIS special agent now. Sounds fancy."

"He is right. Actually, I am technically a Navy reserve officer now. They implied that they would like my experience in the Navy."

"That's great!"

"Thank you, Abby," smiled Ziva.

"Have you heard from your father since you…"

"Resigned? No, I have not. It is strange, no?"

"Yeah, it kind of is. But don't worry. Gibbs is like an honorary dad to all of us."

Both mind's wandered to the statement that had just left Abby's mouth; it was true. Abby hadn't seen her biological father in years, Ziva's father was nothing more than a Mossad Director, Tony's father was a little bit of a jackass, and even McGee's father had never made a presence. Not that it truly mattered. Gibbs was, as Abby said, like a father to them all.

"So… what do people do in these… slumber parties anyway?"

"Oh, well there's pillow fights… truth or dare… games… popcorn… _and _boys. We talk about boys!"

"Boys?" Ziva couldn't help but feel her heart drop a few inches.

It couldn't be helped, of course. Statistically, most girls are straight, after all. Silently, Ziva reprimanded herself for being so stupid, to say the least. She looked to the side, quickly regaining her composure. She had been through enough undercover missions to know how to hide herself.

"Boys," she said again, flashing Abby a cheeky smile.

TBC….

The title song is by Ra Ra Riot.


	2. Know Your Rights

Ziva had rules she lived by. Of course, since she had arrived in NCIS, she had added Gibbs' entire repertoire of rules to her list. True, they tended to overlap. They weren't all that different, after all.

Rule A: Loyalty is key. Never trust a man whose loyalty comes at a price. Trust those whose loyalty _never _comes into question.

Rule B: Do not express unnecessary emotions.

Rule C: Always be calm.

She pondered over this last rule as she watched the overly hectic office of the San Francisco Police Department. Phones were ringing off the hook, people were running everywhere, and paper seemed to fall like waterfalls from the edges of overcrowded desks. It was a wonder that anything got done.

"Sorry about the mess," said Det. Miller. "San Francisco's big. We have a huge caseload, but Schwarzenegger managed to bankrupt the entire state. We've had to make some… budget cuts to say the least."

"I'm adding a rule," Gibbs grumbled. "No needless explanations in the morning."

Tony leaned in towards the detective; "You're better off just keeping to the bare minimum, buddy. At least until we've gotten our coffees."

Miller led them into one of the rooms, shutting away at least half of the noise when closing the door. A greasy man turned from the bulletin board to examine the newcomers.

"Bobby," he acknowledged. "Are these the NCIS people?"

He nodded; "This is my partner, Detective John Kelly."

The team gathered around the bulletin board, and instantly, Ziva almost crinkled her nose. Something smelled strongly of cheap cologne. She figured it was the partner, Kelly.

"Well, I'm sure you know the basics," he drawled. "Cadet Hadley was found on one of the Berkeley quads at 5 am three days ago. I've read through the basics of your Marine's case-file, and well, the crime scene over here was pretty much identical. There was evidence of torture and bondage, and COD was a gunshot to the forehead."

Miller stepped in front of Kelly, a manila folder and photographs in his hand. He blocked his partner from view.

"This," he said, interrupting, "is what _I _thought was strange about the case. I mean, this is San Francisco! I don't know how things work in D.C., but as far as San Francisco goes, this is downright strange."

He handed the photos to Gibbs, who, in turn, allowed the rest of his team to see.

"But you've seen this on your Marine, so I'm sure this isn't too much of a surprise. The dog tags were sharpied-out, and…" Miller pushed the photograph of the dog tags aside, revealing the photo that lied underneath. "…_this _was graffiti-ed across her chest."

They looked down at the college-aged women, her NROTC shirt ripped open. The graffiti glared at them in bright, bright letters; it read "FAG."

"Our body," grunted Tony, obviously displeased, "said 'FAG-ENABLER.'"

Miller shook his head, equally upset; "I discussed the case with my wife… She does volunteer work with the HRC center downtown. I've heard of this kind of thing happening in L.A. and down in Missouri, but I never thought it'd happen here…" He handed another manila folder to the team. "This is the complete case-file for Cadet Hadley. The Chief gave up after speaking to your Director… told us we ought to just give you the whole thing."

"How much more investigating of you done besides what's here?" Gibbs' voice was harsh.

"Well, ID-ing the body took a while. CSI's under-manned and put us on the back-burner. When we figured out who she was, though, and her relations with Staff Sergeant Hadley, we called NCIS. So, we haven't done much else. Kelly and I have been instructed to help you along with the case, but the rest's really up to you folk."

"Can we see the crime scene?"

"Sure thing. It's been secured since we arrived. I've got another case I'm working that I've got to look in on, so Kelly will give you a ride to Berkeley."

Kelly swore beneath his breath, obviously unhappy with Miller's instructions. It was clear that Kelly was the junior detective, and Miller the senior detective.

"Mr. Miller!" piped up Duckie. "I do believe I need to go to the mortuary. I'm the MD."

"Oh yes, sure. I'll take you down there right away."

"Me too! I need a lab!"

Abby ran up, taking Duckie by the arm.

* * *

It was an hour up to Berkeley, and it was an awkward hour at best. Ziva did not like Kelly, and she did not trust him. Sure, Miller was annoying at best, but Kelly… there was something off about him. Something she didn't like. She didn't like this case at all, really. The matching graffiti across both corpses sent chills up her spine, considering her own sexuality. Tony glanced at Ziva knowingly. They bantered… constantly. But it didn't change the fact that they were partners, and had been for years. And, the situation with Michael did nothing that pull them closer.

He spoke up, his voice tinged with anger; "It's a real dirt-bag who did this,"

"I don't think so."

Everyone turned to stare at the driver. Ziva could see that Gibbs was very much inclined to head-slap Kelly. If the detective knew what was best, he would've kept his mouth shut. He, of course, didn't.

"I mean, _you_," he said, addressing Gibbs (a mistake in itself). "I used to serve with the Marine Corps, you know? That's how I got _this _job. You're a Marine. I can see it in your eyes. Having all these _fags _and _dykes _fucking around doesn't do anybody good. These faggots _deserved _what came to them."

Gibbs angrily grabbed the detective's shoulder; "You better not let your mouth run like that and call yourself a Marine. Now drive us to the crime scene and keep your mouth shut. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," he mumbled, instinctively.

He'd stop talking, for Special Agent Gibbs' sake. He respected Marines; good, deserving, _clean _Marines, that is. It didn't stop Gibbs' name from dropping down a notch in his book, though.

Tony broke the tension, distracting the team until they reached the college campus, relieving the entire plot of one of the many movies that was filmed in the San Francisco streets. For once, Ziva was glad for Tony's irritating streak.

"Rule B…," she thought, as her mind replayed Kelly's words. "Do not express unnecessary emotions…"

Ziva ducked under the yellow tape with the rest of the team, taking in the sight of the chalk, the numbered markers, and the blood stain that still hadn't been washed off of the asphalt. She couldn't help but notice the college-aged kids sitting and standing around the tape, obviously keeping vigil around the place of passing.

She didn't lie; Ziva had felt insecurity bubble through her system when Detective Kelly decided to voice his opinions in the car. It was the same insecurity she had whenever she passed by the bruised men and women sneak out of the usually inconspicuous gay bars in Tel Aviv. It was the same insecurity she had whenever she saw Abby – _thought _about Abby.

So, considering everything, Ziva was surprised. There were many students holding vigil around the tape. There were students with the NROTC logo printed across their shirts; the same logo that marked Cadet Hadley's own shirt. There were a few (but less) AFROTC shirts, as well. She assumed it stood for Air Force ROTC. And then there were the others, the ones who, unlike the ROTC cadets, carried the standard freshmen twenty of college, the beer bellies gained from weeks of drinking.

"DiNozzo!" grunted Gibbs, still irritated from Kelly and lack of caffeine. "Look through the crime scene. McGee, get me some coffee. Ziva, why don't you talk to these kids here."

Gibbs began to stare at the crime scene himself, quietly trying to ascertain what had happened. Secretly, he wished his team could've been on the scene earlier, not when the evidence was days old.

Ziva approached one of the students, specifically, one not involved with the military. She thought she'd start there. She made special notice of the rainbow buttons hanging off of the student's backpack.

"Special Agent David," she said, flashing her ID and badge. "I would like to ask you a few questions about Miss Hadley."

"Oh, you mean, Jesse, right? Yeah, okay."

"Did you know her?"

"Sort of. I mean, not really. These cadets usually stick to themselves… We lived in the same dorm, though. So, we talked a couple of times…"

"And can you think of any reason why anyone would want to hurt her?"

The girl looked into Ziva's eyes angrily; "She had 'FAG' written across her chest; we all saw. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out does it?" The girl moved to stare down at her hands. "I thought I escaped all of this when I left home… but I guess not."

"You have seen this before…?"

"Of course. Before I came to Berkeley, I lived in Wyoming. I grew up around this. Is it weird? That I'm synthesized to it?" she said, wearily, searching into Ziva's eyes. "You know what I'm talking about; the unwarranted hate. It's one thing to be hated for something you can prevent. It's another to be hated for something you don't have one bit of control over."

"It is not weird," admitted Ziva. She scribbled down a name and number on a small sheet of paper. "Here, if you have anything more to say, please just contact me."

"Yeah, sure thing."

Ziva hardly had the time to even decide who to talk to next. One of the students (a NROTC cadet, to be exact) beat her to the task, by approaching Ziva first.

"You're NCIS," he stated, bluntly, "and you're hear about Hadley."

Ziva answered carefully, wary of the boy's red-rimmed eyes; "Yes. Special Agent David."

"This isn't supposed to happen…" he said, his voice slightly wavering. "It's the Navy, I know, but this kind of thing isn't supposed to happen until we're out there…"

"Did you know her well?"

"Yeah, I did. It started out when I tried to date her…" he laughed bitterly. "Not that it worked. But we got to know each other."

"Did you know of her… sexuality?"

"Sexuality? Like if she was gay? Well, I guess I know _now_, don't I? Not that I have too much of a problem with it… She was fitter than most of us guys anyway. She made _us _look gay."

Ziva felt a heaviness set on her shoulders as she began to routinely question the cadet in front of her.

* * *

"What is this for, Tony?"

"Well, Zee-vah," he slurred, happily. "Mr. Kelly apparently left us here in Berkeley, and it's going to be another hour before he gets here to pick us up. Gibbs and McGee went to question Hadley's commanding officer, so, in conclusion, there's only us two left."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Now, sit, Probie."

"Do _not_ call me Probie."

"Sorry, Probie. I reserve that right as Senior Field Agent," he said, drawing out the vowels of his rank. "But, really." Tony's face changed to an expression of seriousness. "He bothered you. Kelly."

"I think he bothered everyone, Tony."

"But he bothered _you_ more."

"And what makes you think that?"

"I'm an interrogator, Zee-vah! There are some things that even trained assassins can't hide… it's impossible. I'm a walking polygraph."

"How can you be a polygraph? A polygraph is a machine," stated Ziva, bluntly.

"It's a metaphor, Probie."

She rolled her eyes as she moved on; "And let me guess. Your gut is telling you all of this?"

"Bingo. Look, while you were interviewing all those potheads, McGee and I had some time. McGeek used that cellphone of his to dig up some info on Kelly. He was telling the truth before; he was a Marine. Recruited right out of high school from small-town Tennessee. His permanent base was in Seoul, Korea."

"Why are you are telling me this?"

"Because your gut," Tony stuck his finger out at Ziva's belly, "doesn't like him."

"That is what _your_ gut is telling you, Tony."

"Hey, he bothered you."

"It is none of your business."

"It is when you're my partner," he playfully growled, drawling out 'partner,' pronouncing it, paht-nah. "Why did he bother you so much?"

Ziva's pride stopped her from saying anything. More than anything, she just didn't want to fall under such simple interrogation techniques; she decided she might eventually tell him the truth… but if she really was going to, she would tell him on her own terms.

"He bothered you, did he not?"

"Oh. My. God.," he said, staring at Ziva. "My gut is going off the hook!" He began to mockingly clutch it, pretending to swoon. "It's… it's telling me something! Something big! Je-_sus_!" He leaned in close to Ziva's ear. "Special Agent Ziva David… do you _swing for the other team_?"

Ziva stared at Tony, not even bothering to hide the surprised, confused expression quickly spreading through her features.

* * *

It was late, and it had been a long day of work. The entire team had been running around tracking down every single possible suspect, from the commanding officer to the cadet's roommate to the lesbian bar they found when they tracked her expenses. Tony dragged McGee into the room, and Abby did the same for Ziva, until they were all successfully sitting on the floor together, McGee absentmindedly flipping through the complimentary channels.

"We… are going to play a game," smiled Tony, cheekily.

"Yay! I love games!" Abby clapped.

Ziva tore her eyes from the TV and looked at the ecstatic Abby. She was cute… Ziva remembered when she had first fallen for Abby. She remembered the way Abby had blatantly hated her. She remembered the night Abby let her stay in her apartment, when her own was being fumigated.

"What're we playing?" asked Abby.

"Truth… or dare."

McGee and Ziva stared at Tony. Truth or dare with Tony was not fun at all. It was painful, to be specific.

Tony pointed at McGee; "You go first."

"Um, fine. Okay. Abby," he said. "Truth or dare."

"Dare!"

"Uh, I dare you to kiss someone in this room... for at least a minute."

"Ooh! This'll be fun," smiled Tony. He sidled up next to McGee. "So which one of us will it be, Abby? Me or McGeek?"

Abby rolled her eyes at both of them as she attempted to figure out what to do. She didn't want to inflate Tony's ego… but she didn't like the fact that McGee had dared her to do it. They both obviously expected Abby to kiss them.

Abby grabbed Ziva by the neck, surprising everyone, and began to kiss her counterpart's startled lips. She could hear Tony fall over… she had probably given him a stroke. McGee too… She could feel Ziva's hand graze her hip, and could feel the slight movements in her lips. Slowly, she pulled away, not once taking her eyes away from Ziva's.

"So… was that a minute?"

"Y-yeah…" muttered McGee.

Abby couldn't take her eyes away from Ziva's. And in them, she recognized, for a split moment, emotions of raw desire swimming through dilated pupils. She shivered, unable to move.

Ziva was the one to break the stare, pulling herself off of the floor as Tony began to choose someone to dare.

"I will be going back to the room," she said. "I am tired."

Abby watched Ziva leave.

TBC…

Okay, I know there's very little Zabby (until the end) but bare with me for a while. I like to lay groundwork.

The song is by the Clash.


End file.
